My fingers wrap around your dripping cock, and I stroke you slowly, teasing you at first. The desperate noises you make delight me, and I work my hand a little faster for you, bringing you the blissyouneed.
How would it feel to touch L like that? To prop him up on the bar and guide him through an orgasm? Marcus longed to let his fingers brush his own clothed erection, but he couldn’t let himself do it—not until L was satisfied. Not until he was done with hisstory.
You’re begging me for more. My hand moves with purpose, guiding you through everything you could ever want, but it’s still not enough. No matter how well I pump you, no matter the speed or the rhythm or the intensity, you’re not satisfied,areyou?
He paused only for effect, the air stuck and stale in his lungs. Anticipation of the payout built. Playing with L was more rewarding than Marcus could have anticipated. For now the play was all one-sided, but it wouldn’t be that way forever. Marcus wouldn’tallowit.
Youneedmore.
The speech bubble appeared, but before a message could be sent, Marcusstoppedit.
Your hands are busy, L. I didn’t tell youtostop.
The speech bubbledisappeared.
You’re wet. The scent of your heat is muted, but with your slick running down your thighs, you can still smell it. You know I can smell it, too. You know I must want to fuck your heat out of you, don’t you? You know that I want to work you as deep and as hard as I can before I let my knot stuff you. You’re desperate to feel me swell, aren’t you? You want to grind down on me and take me as deeply as you can if only so my cum can douse the fireinside.
Marcus’ pulse sped. The desire to go through with his words and take L the way he wanted to was almost overwhelming, but Marcus didn’t let it control him. He was an alpha, but he was stronger than his basicinstincts.
The words spill from your lips before you even know you’re speaking. You’re begging me to roll you over and fuck you into the mattress. Between the way I’m pinching, tugging, and caressing your nipple and the way I’m working your cock, you can’t get enough. You need more. You spread your legs for me to show me how wet you are and how ready you are to take all of me, and I lean forward and whisper against yourlips, “No.”
You weep for me. You shed pretty, desperate tears. You need to be filled, don’t you? You need to have my knot inside you, pumping you full of life. Your body demands it, and you can’t do anything but give in. But I won’t give you what you want. My hand pumps, and pumps, and finally it hits the rhythm that you need. You work yourself into my hand like it might convince me to change my mind, but it’s not going to. And when you come, and your seed drips down my hand to pool low on your stomach, I pull back. Before you know it,I’mgone.
There was nothing said for a long while. Marcus focused on the pattern of each ragged breath he drew, following the hitched intake and marking how each exhalation flattened his lungs. He pushed into the mattress, working hisneglecteddick.
At last, a new messageappeared.
Why won’t you fuck me? Put it in me? Use me like I deserve tobeused?
Because words wouldn’t do it justice,Marcus replied.It’s the kind of experience I only offer inperson.
A minute passed, then two. By the time the third minute ended, Marcus assumed their conversation was over. He rolled onto his back with every intention of knotting his hand when his phone beeped with a newmessage.
My name is LucianBracknell.
Welcome to The Shepherd, Lucian.I hope you enjoyyourstay.
11
Lucian
Movement drewLucian’s eye to the second floor landing, but the grin on his face faltered before it could bloom. It was another Friday night, and that meant Marcus was on his way—but the suit jacket he’d seen from the corner of his eye didn’t belong to Marcus. The man it belonged to was already with an omega, and they wasted no time crossing the floor and disappearing down the hallway to The Shepherd’s publicrooms.
Lucian watched them go, deflated without reason to be. Against his better judgment, he’d been waiting all night for Marcus to make an appearance, but Marcus was nowhere tobeseen.
“Lucian?” Clarissaasked.
“Right, right.” Lucian shook his head. “I’m on it. I’msorry.”
There was a small crowd at the bar, and Clarissa was slowed by an order for handcrafted cocktails. Keeping up with the simple stuff fell on Lucian’s shoulders while she worked. Now that he was on his second full week at work, he was able to take care of orders by himself for themostpart.
Shots were filled. Orders were taken. Money traded hands. Lucian kept as focused as he could, but his eye kept being drawn to the stairs, eager to see Marcus arrive. After their conversation on Monday, they hadn’t texted again, but Marcus had never leftLucian’smind.
He couldn’t, no matter how wrong it was. Not after the storyhe’dtold.
Lucian glanced toward the stairs again as he switched bottles, but there was no onethere.
The crowd thinned. Clarissa finished what she was doing and helped him clear up the last of the outstanding orders. Rush conquered, Lucian wiped his arm across his brow, then sanitized the bar counter. As he worked, Clarissa swapped out the rack of used glasses they kept beneath the bar for an empty rack, handing the dishes off to a busboy who’d come up from the groundfloor.
